


And then what? (The Phone Call, part 2)

by RedLights



Category: Scandal (TV)
Genre: Extended Scene, F/M, Fix-It, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-06
Updated: 2017-01-06
Packaged: 2018-09-15 05:42:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9221552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedLights/pseuds/RedLights
Summary: Remember that hot phone call in 4x07? I've decided to extend the scene to end the way I'd want it to. (Pure smut but with a bit of romance)





	

“I guess that depends how much hope there is,” he said, and the line went dead. Olivia flopped back on the bed with a groan. How was it possible he could turn her on that much with just a phone call?  
She tried to ignore it but gave up and undressed. She lay back on the bed and her hands traveled over her body. She pressed them against her lace-covered breasts, traced her fingers down her stomach, and dragged one fingernail over the fabric of her underwear.

  
A few minutes later, Liv opened her phone and called him back. “Liv?” He answered.

  
“You want to play it like that? Fine. You can pretend you're the one in control. But you should know what you're missing.” She heard rustling as he hurriedly got out of bed and closed the bathroom door behind him. “I'm lying in bed right now. I might move to the shower later though, you know how I like the hot water on me, making me all red and swollen. But for now I have you on speaker, so I can trace my nipples with one hand while I stroke my clit with the other. God, it feels good.”

She made sure to turn her head towards the phone, so he would hear her breathing heavily. “I've already soaked through my panties, I'm so wet. I can feel how slick my entrance is. I'm taking it slow tonight, teasing myself. I'm in that white lace set I look so good in, by the way, the one I was wearing our first time, and it feels so sexy.”

She paused, still stroking her clit, reveling in the sensations. She heard his breathing on the other line and smirked. “It's torture, how slow I'm going; I can feel myself throbbing while I work my clit. I'm rubbing it in circles, and it feels amazing, but I'm dying for something inside me. I wanna feel all stretched and filled. I think I'll pull out my vibrator and slick it up.” Which she did, and said no more. She knew he could hear her little moans as she pushed the toy inside her and started moving it in and out, gasping quietly each time she felt the head vibrating against her spot.

  
“And then what?” He prompted impatiently. She heard the lust in his voice and smirked.

  
“Oh, I thought we weren't answering that question,” she replied smugly, and hung up the call. It was petty, but she wasn't above it, even if she was the great Olivia Pope.

  
Ten minutes and an orgasm later, as she lay in bed lazily touching herself, she heard a knock at the door. She grabbed a robe and answered it. The President of the United States looked back at her, then grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her into her bedroom.  
He pushed her back on the bed and she looked up at him, waiting breathlessly. He saw that she hadn't been lying about her lingerie and remembered the first time he'd seen it, then took a deep breath.

  
“Never do that again,” he said, in that authoritative tone he knew she loved.

  
“Yes, Mr. President,” Olivia said coyly, and he climbed on top of her to crush his lips against hers. He wasted no time, reaching down to pull her panties aside and thrust two fingers inside her. She gasped and ground her hips upwards at the sensation. He was curling her fingers inside her as he pumped them in and out, hitting her spot every time and making her cry out. Fitz bent his head to pull the straps of her bra down with his teeth and other hand, and unclasped it so he could lave his tongue over one of her dark nipples. It pebbled at the stimulation and he bit the hardened peak lightly, which made Olivia gasp. He never stopped the rhythm of his fingers.

  
When he felt her walls contract around him and her breathing become shaky and erratic, he withdrew, eliciting a whimper from Liv. “You don't get to come yet. You were very bad just now, you know.” She looked at him, panting, and waited. “Get on your hands and knees.”

  
Liv bit back a smile as she did as she was told. She loved him being in charge of her almost as much as he loved being in charge - his deep, commanding voice sent a wave of anticipatory pleasure through her body every time.  
Fitz stood by the side of the bed and stripped, admiring the view of her round ass and the swollenness under her panties. He grabbed her roughly by the waist and pulled her ass against him, bringing a hand around to tease her clit. She gyrated her hips in pleasure, making him groan at the friction on his cock. He pulled her panties off quickly, almost ripping them (which he'd done before, but he had a special appreciation for this particular pair). He rubbed his hand over her pussy, long fingers stroking her wetness, and squeezed her ass. Then he pulled back and without warning delivered a sharp blow to her rear. Olivia cried out in a mix of pain and delight at the stinging sensation left behind. He'd never done that before, it had always seemed off-limits, but she could never have guessed how delicious it would feel to be spanked by him.

  
“This isn't a game we play, Olivia,” he said darkly as he rubbed his fingers over her ass and her slit. “You don't get to do that. I make the decisions. I am the President of the United States of America. You don't get to play with me. Am I making myself clear?”

Olivia only nodded, and he slapped her ass again, making her whimper. “Answer me.”

  
“Yes, Mr. President,” she responded breathlessly. Fitz pushed at her lower back, arching her back and tilting her hips up to reveal more of her wet, swollen lips. He spanked her again, this time closer to the tops of her thighs, so that his hand struck that spot between her legs. Liv cried out, and he worried for a short moment that he'd hurt her, but then she arched her back and pushed her hips back towards him, seeking contact. He delivered three more blows, each time hitting between her legs too. Liv could feel her legs trembling, and the stinging of his slaps was accompanied by tingling and a rush of wetness at her center. 

Fitz wrapped one strong arm around her waist and flipped her over, then yanked her so her hips were at the edge of the bed. He knelt and pushed her thighs apart as her breath quickened.

Watching her, so he would see her reaction, he pressed his tongue and open mouth over her. Liv moaned at the wet warmth and ground her hips into his mouth. She looked down to see him grin. He paused a moment and inhaled, savoring, then dipped his tongue into the wetness below her dark curls. He felt her walls clench with nothing to tighten around, and briefly considered cutting this short and entering her now. Briefly. He brought his tongue up to swirl the tip of it around her swollen clit, which made Liv shiver in pleasure, and teased the tip of one finger over her slick entrance. Again, she pushed her hips into him, desperately wanting something inside her, and he obliged, pushing two long fingers into her.

  
Fitz began his torture again, fingers curling inside her, hitting her spot every time. Olivia could feel her hips lifting off the bed to meet his fingers as he plunged inside her without any conscious thought of doing so. He inserted a third finger and curled them, fingers pressing tight against her front wall as the heel of his hand pressed her clit, eliciting a groan that was almost a scream. He loved her like this, the power plays and plotting and plotting gone, no Olivia Pope, just his Livvie unraveling underneath him. She writhed on the bed and he removed one hand from her hip to stroke his cock once before straightening to position himself at her entrance. Time stopped, just for one small moment, and Liv’s breathing halted, anticipating him.

  
Then he slammed into her and she screamed in ecstasy. Liv felt like she was impaled on him, every nerve and muscle in her body spanning out from the point of their connection, her brain capable of comprehending nothing else but the intense pleasure of being filled with him. Within a few strokes he felt her quivering around him and let out a shaky moan. She felt so, so fucking good. She heard him and her lips twitched in what would have been a smirk, were she capable of any action that complex at the moment, and clenched around him. His moan became a low growl, a deep rumbling in his chest that reverberated from his throat, and she contracted her walls again. She keep up a rhythm, sucking him in like a current pulling him out to sea, faster and faster as he thrust into her and she gripped the bed for dear life. He shuddered, plunged into her, and they both tumbled over the edge together.

  
Fitzgerald Grant the Third, never an underachiever, barely missed a beat as he brought his expert fingers down to massage her clit. The bundle of nerves was pink and swollen with her arousal, and Fitz knew exactly how to work her. Within a few seconds stars exploded behind her eyes again, and she convulsed as the orgasm racked through her, still riding out the aftershocks of the first.

  
Liv had been worried she'd lost her vision entirely, not to mention lost control of her limbs. The sex with them had never been the problem - it was never less than mind-blowing - but they'd outdone themselves. When she recovered, she glanced over to find Fitz, who'd fallen back onto the bed beside her, looking her with _that_ expression.

  
“Hi.” He said, deep blue eyes like the sea, pulling her in.

  
“Hi,” she responded, hoping he could see what she felt in her wide, dark eyes. He smiled, a small smile, hardly noticeable unless you were the one it was directed at. Unless you were the one who knew that smile meant _I love you_.

  
He lifted his arm at the same time as she curled into him, in sync as they'd become over the years, and he lifted his hand to stroke her hair. She remembered with a rush of warmth that he was the first man she'd ever let touch her hair. It had been a moment just like this: they'd been lying together, in their happy bubble, and she'd felt him raise his hand, then drop it to her shoulder. They'd been in the shower before, so her hair was curly that time, full and wild as it naturally was. She felt him raise his hand again hesitantly and realized he wanted to touch her hair. It had been so endearing: this white, Republican man knew he couldn't touch a black woman’s hair without permission, no matter how close they were, but he wanted to. Not as a novelty, not because he saw her or them as somehow exotic, but because he loved her, because they were intimate in every way. She'd looked at him and nodded, and he'd twined his long fingers into her tight curls, playing with them. He stroked her hair and massaged his fingertips over her scalp. It was one of the most singularly blissful things she'd ever felt.

  
He would always be this to her; the man who could torture her with pleasure so intense she felt like she was losing her mind, and caress her with such intimacy and tenderness she felt as though his arms were the safest place on Earth. (And since he was the most well-guarded man in the world, it probably was.) He was a great man, a brilliant thinker and powerful fighter in more ways than one, but he was mostly just Fitz.

  
Liv fell asleep with a smile on her lips, perfectly content for the first time in months.


End file.
